Hunting humans for sport? Eating them?" the bitterness in his voice cut through me. "Yeah, I caught that part." "That doesn't have anything to do with you? He lifted his eyes, gaze shuttered. "No?" "Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf AND a redneck moron.

Never go easy on allies if you ahve to take them down. Especially allies. You’re already fighting the urge not to hurt them. Counteract that and hit them with everything you’ve got.

Oh my God. You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong." He gave me a sidelong smile. "Maybe it's not that kind of hunting." "Then you're definitely doing it wrong.

All I could think about was him, and how much I wanted this, and how incredibly lucky I was to get it, and how tight I was going to hold onto it.

Tell her to be quiet, and she got louder. Tell her to stay back, and she pushed me into the line of fire. Tell her to watch for our pursuers, and she hovered at my shoulder instead. Open the door to listen, and she wanted to drag me back inside. Ah. The beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Yes you're getting your tattoo." I threw my arms around Dad's neck. "Thank you!" "Hey," Mom said. "I'm the one who had to persuade him it wasn't turning his little girl into a streetwalker." "I never said that," Dad said. "No?" I said. "Cool. Cause I've decided to skip the paw print. I'm thinking of a tramp stamp with flames that says 'Hot in Here.' No wait. Arrows. For directionally challenged guys

Nuh-uh. No deals with the devil. I’ve learned my lesson on that one. ~Jaime Vegas